


Cognition

by drwatsom



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Bottom!Cecil, Carlos/Cecil - Freeform, Cecil/Carlos - Freeform, First Time, M/M, PWP, Voice Kink, cecilos - Freeform, top!Carlos, wtnv - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 14:30:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1269952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drwatsom/pseuds/drwatsom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil burned. Carlos found himself fearing his heat, believing for a moment that he really could be incinerated. It wouldn't have mattered. He would suffer yards of scorched flesh for any small taste of this, this sight of Cecil before him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cognition

          He hadn't known Cecil could exist this way. He had assumed – Cecil was, more or less, a genetically normal human male. Carlos had posed him in false snapshots in his mind, discrediting their potential quickly. He had hoped, but he hadn't known it. He hadn't prodded at Cecil's existence invasively enough to be sure that he could ever witness him this way, lost in such right-brain abandon.

          Cecil burned. Carlos found himself fearing his heat, believing for a moment that he really could be incinerated. It wouldn't have mattered. He would suffer yards of scorched flesh for any small taste of this, this sight of Cecil before him. It almost pained Carlos to see him so sapped of power, his command of the space evaporated into a thick haze of submission. Carlos felt intoxicated by it, drawing it to himself in deep, measured breaths through his imperial nose. He would've put a stop to it had he not been able to recognise that their submission was shared; Cecil to Carlos, his ivory knees spread wide to succumb to dark skin, and Carlos's inability to do anything but soak in every sound and sensation, his mind reeling to record every exhalation, every reflexive clench of muscle.

           He felt something akin to bitterness at the soft haze of burgundy permeating the room, the faint aroma of turmeric and sun-warmed stone. He didn't want to remember the slant of moonlight creating a quilt of reverence across the bedspread. His duty was to document the visceral; he needed enough detail to be able call these long minutes back until his life settled into the better part of age. It overwhelmed his senses. He couldn't focus–couldn't reach–he couldn't–

           Firm hands clutch at the back of his head, fingers winding into coarse hair and _pulling_ , drawing Calros's glistening face to Cecil's. Suddenly, impossibly more heat as Cecil laves his tongue between Carlos's dripping lips; not quite steadily, attempting constance. He feels blood bloom beneath his skin. He will have to think of an excuse when the time comes. A fight with a colleague. An accident in the lab. Anything but Cecil sucking his boysenberry signature just left of his mouth. He can feel Cecil's teeth working the skin; not tasting, almost chewing, wanting to consume him before he can revel in the flavour of lavender and humus. Carlos can feel; he can't see enough. He can't see.

           "Cecil, please, I have to know _.._."

            The man's eyes flicker open, his irises resembling embers stoked by Carlos's languid movements.

            "I know this. Carlos, I--I _know_ this.

             Carlos nearly sobs, desperate to be understood. He wants nothing more than to be honest with this man, this man who has shared his hometown and his knowledge, and now his bed. He needs to be able to give something back, something corporeal. He needs these moments to solidify themselves into a worthy gift.

             Cecil's body stills, and his eyes widen, realisation blossoming on the angular terrain of his flushed face. "Oh, god...Carlos."

             He sits up, bringing Carlos up with him, meeting him there. And isn't that just how it's been for the past year – being surprised by the strength of this man? And Cecil speaks.

             "I've felt us since this town first opened for you. We were––droplets of glacial water, rolling in parallel lines down the same stone. Our meeting was a mathematical anomaly..." His head tilts thoughtfully, mouth slackened. "...poetry of the earth." He brings a slender fingertip to trace the ridge of Carlos's lower cuspids as the taste of salt blooms on his slack tongue.

             "There is no rationalising us, Carlos. We are not so fortunate."

             Carlos opens his mouth. He is sure he has a reply, but he cannot restrain a grimace of frustration, letting his head fall. He feels Cecil huff out a laugh against his cheek. "Don't look away now, my perfect boy. Don't stop looking now."

             "I think I'm afraid of this, Cecil. I need this." _Easy now; think._ "I need you, and if this shines for a moment and fades out again, I need–"

             " _Carlos_."

              It was as though the moon had gone out. Cecil's eyes were nearly black, irises eclipsed.

              "Your panic leaves an aftertaste." His tongue is against Carlos's now, and then it is not. Cecil's eyes close softly, and a sound of greed reverberates deeply in his chest cavity.

               His eyes open. "Iron."

               He is tugged forward to Cecil's mouth, and Carlos thinks he may be consumed. He also thinks he would not mind it so much. Cecil grasps a handful of Carlos's ebony curls and tugs his head back, exposing the sinew and thew of his graceful neck. Carlos can feel his pulse point jumping, and Cecil gnaws at it threateningly, tempted by a richer taste of iron, but pulls back to eject hoarse promises.

               "Two drops of water converging, sharing molecules. An impossibility, but we're–– _look at us, Carlos."_ Carlos drops his eyes obediently to the place where they are converged, condensing, expanding, droplets communing and forming pools and lakes and waves that roll through Carlos's core muscle groups, urging on their metamorphosis. "We are sharing matter; matter to matter, you and I––Carlos, I will _never_ let this fade."

               Cecil's voice drops to a predatory, mechanic growl at that, unable to stifle a visceral cry before continuing, his velour incantation having tightened Carlos's hands over the pale peaks of his hip bones. He continues, drinking in air between words as though he were nearly sapped dry.

               "We were mere degrees away from solidifying, but were melted down to brine and whipped up into foam, lost in the crags and the rocky embankments on the surface of this saturated meteor, being––mutated, turning crimson, discovering that all along, we were bled from one great, heaving, exsanguinated beast – ah-Carlos, _god_ – we found each other in the same swollen, pounding heart––"

               Carlos raked his eyes over the topography of Cecil's ribs and, after a second count, marvelled at the two extra sets. A single droning tone began sounding off, deep and rich in Carlos's gut. This man wasn't possible. Constellations of freckles dusted the expanse of his wintry complexion – shoulders, neck, thighs, groin. Several moments of awe passed before he became dimly aware that the voice drifting into his ear was shuddering, panicked suddenly. He hadn't known his eyes had fallen closed until they flicked open, locking onto the black orbs of Cecil's eyes, white eyelashes fluttering over them like cirrus clouds.

               Carlos was stargazing.

               Cecil's muscles began to contract around him, pulling Carlos impossibly deeper into velvety, damp heat. He felt almost guilty, undeserving of the frissons of pleasure extending out to the ends of each finger, like a tree singled out in an electrical storm.

               The tone resounding within him began to rise in volume, pounding in his ears. He heard the din of gelid structures tumbling into a damson ocean, his eyes closed tightly to shield him from the blinding light of too many stars in too little space, beams meeting, melding, collapsing, transfiguring into new clusters of celestial bodies, exhaling together.

               A breath against his jaw.

               " _Know_ this, Carlos."

               At that, a cry tore itself from Carlos's taut throat as he offered up the last of himself, his vocal chords on the verge of snapping like guitar strings. He was here, in this moment with this creature who grappled for him, desperately wrenching him flush to his chest and imbedding teeth into the flesh of his shoulder. He was here, gasping at the sudden sensation of each hot bursts against his stomach, chest, chin.

               He was here, and so was Cecil. They were together, beaming, melded, collapsed, transfigured, two renewed bodies, panting together.

               This he knew.

 

  

 

                    Eternal thanks to the luminescent [sassementary](http://www.sassementary.tumblr.com) for [among countless other things including saving my life] inspiring/beta-ing this fic.

                    Find me on tumblr [here](http://www.mxzart.tumblr.com).


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